Repair my Heart
by Peaceouttalove
Summary: Kyle's heart is broken beyond repair...or so he thought. Kyman and a little Style


**Taking a break from the paranormal and the fluffy multichapter fics to bring you this Kyman/ a tiny bit of Style one-shot.**

Repair my Heart

I had been gone for four years now. I had left from Cambridge high spirited, ready for college life. Now I wanted nothing more than to come home and get a job.

While I waited for my flight to come in, I looked at some old photos on my phone, specifically ones of me and Stan. A tear fell from my eye.

_Four years Earlier..._

I was never going to let go of Stan. This was the longest we had ever hugged...a good five minutes, I'd say. I guess this was what Shakespeare meant when he said "Parting was such sweet sorrow". I had secretly loved Stan my entire life, and this hug was the closest thing I would ever have to having his heart. But when it was over we would be separated for four long years.

"Don't cry, dude, we'll keep in touch. I promise." Stan said. "I'll FaceTime you every night." I promised. "And I'll fly to England every summer and Christmas." Stan said. I broke down again, "I'm gonna miss you."

Wendy cleared her throat. God damn that fucking bitch. She didn't deserve to have Stan. I loved him ten times as much as she did. She was even cheating on him for Token. When Stan found out, he would be devastated and then I would silently cry for him both tears and tears of joy. I sighed, our relationship wasn't meant to be.

"You should probably go now." Stan said. I nodded and was about to leave when something crazy came over me.

Not caring that Wendy was standing less than ten feet behind us, I ran back and kissed Stan. It broke my heart when he didn't kiss back. "I love you." I said, "I always have."

Stan looked horrified and sick to his stomach, he slammed the door in my face, and that was that. My heart was forever gone, and nothing would ever replace it. I cried throughout the whole plane ride.

He never called me and he wouldn't pick up when I tried to call him. On the bright side, my grades were exceptional and I was living up to the reason I received the scholarship. I think that was because without my Stan, I had no life outside of school.

A month after I left, I received a text from Kenny. '_Stan told me what happened When I asked about you and said he wasn't talking to you anymore. I'm sorry. He wouldn't believe me when I told him about his bitch cheating on him. Maybe it's better this way. The fat ass and I still miss you. Good luck in Cambridge! Feel free to call anytime.' _

If I wasn't so sad about Stan, I would've been suspicious over Kenny's comment about Cartman. He was the only one who didn't seem to give a shit about me leaving, which I expected. But right now I was too busy crying over the broken pieces of my heart. _  
_

About two weeks later the fat ass FaceTimed me. I decided not to pickup, knowing he would just rip on me for being gay for Stan. A few minutes later he text me. _Kenny's dead. We need to talk. _

I waited awkwardly for the comment that never came and then finally replied to the ghost, "You bastards!" And then I cried.

Cartman tried to reach me through FaceTime again. I picked up, deciding I had nothing to hide. This was what he wanted, this was what he was going to get. I gasped when I saw that his eyes were red, too...probably just high.

"What do you want?" I asked. "I want to apologize." Cartman said. I snickered, "That's a good one, fat ass. Seriously, haven't you heard the news. I'm gay. Why don't you rip on me for it?" "Maybe later. How are you holding up, Ky?" I blinked. What he actually concerned?

"Look, I know you don't trust me, and I get it. I wouldn't trust me either after everything I've done to you. So if you don't wanna talk, I get it. But if you do wanna talk, I'm just a phone call away." Cartman said and then hung up.

Dude.

A few months later Cartman called again, but just to rub in the fact that he lost all the weight. I had to admit he looked really hot now that it was gone. "How'd you do it?" I asked. "I don't know...I just...got surgery." He admitted. "That's not healthy."

"What do you care? I thought you hated me." Cartman said. "I don't hate you...I just...It's complicated. So what's your deal? What was with that call a few months back and how come you haven't ripped on me yet?" I asked.

"Well, when you left, I lost all my friends, so I figured I might as well make a few changes..physically and mentally, and try to repair the last friendship I had left." He explained. "Well, I'm glad, no one likes an ass, let alone a fat ass." We both laughed at that comment.

And like that, it became everything Stan had promised. Cartman FaceTimed me every night and visited every summer and Christmas. He rarely ever ripped on me anymore, and vice versa (mostly because I lost my biggest insult). It was like we were friends...and sometimes when he looked at me...I felt...the same way I felt when I thought about Stan...But it couldn't be...

_Present Day..._

_"_Mom, Dad, Ike!" I cried and ran towards my family. "I missed you guys so much." "We missed you, too, bubbeh." Mom said. They drove me home and listened to all of my stories about college.

"Is there anything special you want for dinner tonight?" Mom asked. I shrugged. "Whatever you want. I'm gonna hit the shower." "OK, I'll get cooking."

As the hot water washed over me, I thought about how good it felt to be home. It would be so cool when I was able to get a job, buy a small apartment, and eventually, when I was able to call him by his first name, Eric and I would..."Holy shit!"

I felt like Archamiedes, running down the street, wearing nothing but a towel. The moment Eric opened the door, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him...and he kissed back...repairing my broken heart.

"I love you, Eric." I said. "I love you more...Now let's go upstairs and get rid of that towel." He replied.

* * *

_'Once I said my heart was gone and could never be replaced. I was wrong. All I need was someone to repair my heart.' _I put done the pen and decided that poetry wasn't my thing. Eric loved what I wrote, but I told him I'd much rather fuck him, than write about him. He said he loved that idea more, but he loved me most.


End file.
